


creation incarnate

by merridiem



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Animal Instincts, Arguing, Blood and Gore, Body Horror, F/M, First Time, Gen, Metamorphosis, Psychological Horror, Self-Harm, Sex, Suicidal Thoughts, Transformation, prose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-19
Updated: 2019-02-19
Packaged: 2019-10-31 11:13:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17848376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merridiem/pseuds/merridiem
Summary: Her period had stopped and she’d thought in a panic that she was pregnant, still a virgin, the next Mary, Holy Ladybug, the high and mighty. Bringer of a new savior: some twisted, spotted, gnarled monster, and Tikki had made sure that she would create something terrible and powerful and more than human. She was creation incarnate, summoner of anything and everything. All with her little cat beside her.





	creation incarnate

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Воплощенное созидание](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18584674) by [Jerohn (Nererimaru)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nererimaru/pseuds/Jerohn)



> Warning for body horror, blood, and self harm.
> 
> (Another late night, I-wrote-this-instead-of-sleeping-post, but my first body horror for this fandom.)

There was blood on the counter. She hooked her fingers together, stretched arms over head, leaned left, right. Stifled a cry of pain at pulled muscles. That fluid was gathering at the back of her neck, stale and venomous and sticky, and she quickly grabbed a towel to sop it up. The other fluid, the blood, was red red red and the little fragments of wing were marinating in it.

 _They’ll grow back_ , Tikki hissed, little parasite she was. _They always do_.

Marinette kicked the counter. She did it again. She kicked it until her foot and leg were welded with bruises, dark spots like her suit, _that fucking suit_. She didn’t stop when a toenail fell off, didn’t stop when she began to gush blood, didn’t stop didn’t stop

_fingernails raking over legs deeper deeper her blood was pouring she wanted to scream she couldn’t her parents would hear she was a fucking monster breathebreathebreathe poundpoundpoundpound_

There was a pounding at her window. Chat. Adrien. No, not Adrien anymore. Not Adrien for much longer at least. His kwami, black as coal, radioactive, sick-green eyes, would make sure of that.

_You’ll become vessels of creation and destruction, no longer human, too powerful for humanity, so hang on all you want, kid, hang on to the weak little scrap of humanity you have left until your knuckles turn white and your fingernails turn black, but there’s nothing you can do about it now.  
_

_You were chosen, after all._

She turned around to see that he’d let himself in. There was a smoking hole seared through the building, and his hand was black and slick. Like tar, the black dribbled onto the floor. She offered him a towel.

“Thanks.” He grabbed it shyly, and she sighed. He was still so polite, the Agreste child, still so heir-to-the-fortune. How much longer could he keep this up?

“I would have let you in.” She regarded the prominent veins in his temples. “Don’t wear yourself out.”

“It was an impulse.” He frowned. “It’s weird now that I can do it without de-transforming. It makes me want to do it more.”

“I understand.”

She did. Lucky charm was now readily available to her, in or out of costume, with or without her yo-yo. She could summon objects into the palm of her hand, but she could never decide what they would be.

Infinite power and no way to control it. Just one step closer to becoming a permanent vessel.

Adrien-but-not-for-long noticed the blood-covered counter to match the blood-covered girl. “They grew back.”

“Yep. Quicker this time. At first I wanted a suit upgrade but… not like this.”

He snorted. “I understand.”

They stared at each other. There was once a time when Marinette would be beyond embarrassed standing in front of Adrien with just her underwear on, but that time was long gone and so was that Marinette.

Her period had stopped and she’d thought in a panic that she was pregnant, still a virgin, the next Mary, Holy Ladybug, the high and mighty. Bringer of a new savior: some twisted, spotted, gnarled monster, and Tikki had made sure that she would create something terrible and powerful and more than human. She was creation incarnate, summoner of anything and everything. All with her little cat beside her.

Next were useless appendages. Teeth. Fingernails. Hair. They wouldn’t be needed in the direction she was heading, no, one-way ticket to godhood and the only thing it costed was her humanity.

Then she’d woken up with wings, elytra covers and all. Tikki was delighted as a kid on Christmas morning, shaking a gift covered in black and red polka dot wrapping. Marinette cried in the shower that morning, dried off and thanked the lucky stars her father was a baker.

Tom’s collection of cutlery was impressive. Razor-sharp Japanese blades fit to cut off an arm if need be. She went with her father’s pride and joy, the “shogun slicer,” and prayed it would live up to her expectations. It did.

Even if something doesn’t belong to you, it’s hard to cut it off. She’d stood with the blade aimed at the wings, neck craned back to look in the mirror, and shook. She was fucking terrified. She was fourteen, recently _blessed_ with a kwami, and this was her first time jumping off a building. She’d been skeptical about God before, but now she knew he couldn’t exist because this was not his image.

Or Tikki had overthrown him, sat Herself right on his throne and decided _I shall make her in my image, my little protégé, my sweet Marinette, now crafted into a perfect vessel._

Human form can’t handle that sweet power, her flesh would disintegrate when faced with the sheer magnitude of Tikki’s ability. She wasn’t being destroyed, she was being created. This was her perfect, true form. She should be grateful.

Her one consolation was the thought of Hawkmoth sprouting wings, Hawkmoth’s back hunching permanently, Hawkmoth’s mouth bursting with probuscus, gallae of maxillae, unable to speak those cursed words to his precious akumas again. She wanted to see him in that state, look him in the eyes and have him KNOW.

If we go down we’ll drag you down with us. We rot together.

Adrien’s teeth were sharpening into points. He’d lost fingernails and toenails to have them replaced with claws. His back was peppered with thick black hairs and his eyes were just starting to glow in the dark. He’d developed a taste for dumpster-diving, fine dining abandoned. His diet consisted of table scraps, raw meat, rotten fish, anything disgusting and meaty he could get his paws on.

Adrien released his transformation and in the green light she could see the River Stix: all broken bones and lost dreams here, human suffering and the nothing that greets you when you die, a resolute and lonely nothing that takes you by the shoulder and shakes you, saying _you’re alone now, but not lost, never lost, because you’ll always be right here_.

Adrien was beautiful despite it, and she made her decision. She’d made it years ago.

“Take your shirt off." 

And he did. He still did as his Lady commanded, and he would continue to until he no longer could. She loved him and she knew him, and she would continue to until she no longer could.

His chest was nothing like in his underwear ads, instead furry and ridged from ribs poking dangerously at skin. She ran a finger down them like playing the guitar.

“You need to eat more.”

He frowned and shook his head. “I don’t want to. I’m not hungry.”

 _Plagg is_ , he didn’t say. _And he never lets me forget it._

Quickly, she took her bra off and pressed her breasts against him. He trembled.

“I’ve wanted to do this since freshman year,” she whispered. “And it’ll be too late soon. Please.”

“My L- Marinette. Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Adrien reached out to pull her hair down. He ran his fingers over her scalp and toyed at the places where the hair had gone missing. She opened her mouth and stuck his fingers inside, showed him her missing molars. She sucked on his fingers, every one of them, slowly and deliberately.

She felt him become hard, and her hands leapt down to grab him. When he moaned, she took his lips and sucked and bit until she tasted blood. When she slipped her hand into his pants, he pulled away.

“Should we… you know… use protection?”

She was needy, frantic, and she needed him inside of her now. “What's the use, kitty? I don’t think felines and insects can interbreed anyway.”

She stripped him, knelt down and licked him from base to tip, and he shuddered like he was freezing. She sucked him, buried her face in thick black hair, didn’t stop until she tasted pre-cum.

Then she stood up, pulled down her lace panties, and draped her arms along the counter, back facing the mirror. She was sure he could see the jagged wound between her shoulder blades, but he chose to gawk at her naked instead. Her hand was in a puddle of her own blood.

She wanted him to lap up that blood like a little kitten, lick her cunt with his tongue still red, bite her and take her. She leaned back further, head up and neck exposed in a way she hoped would say _your move_.

He walked slowly to her, and she wanted to scream at him to go faster. She needed vigor, needed confidence, she wanted to feel and feel _now_. He slipped inside of her and her hips thrusted forward, and she began to ooze.

“I think I’m toxic right now,” she gasped.

He grunted back, “I don’t mind.”

She knew he was about to climax by his shuddering. His hands were on her like a child, he palmed her breasts clumsily and ardently. She bucked her hips faster and faster until he came inside of her, and then pulled him to her and held him.

“Say it,” she whispered.

“I love you. God, I love you, Marinette. More than anything.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

He shook his head. “I can’t. My Lady, I can’t. I’m sorry.”

She raised her voice. “Adrien. Cataclysm. Now.”

He pulled her tighter. “No. I can’t do it. No.”

She yelled. “Adrien! If you love me, do it! Now!” She wasn't herself, she was being selfish and terrible and for once, she knew it wasn't Tikki's fault.

He was crying now. “I can’t, my Lady! I can’t kill you, I can’t, I can’t, I can’t!”

“You won’t. You _won’t_ kill me.”

“My Lady, I’m sor-”

“Don’t.” She pulled away from him and saw a child, lip quivering and eyes watering pathetically. How could someone like this be chosen as the god of destruction? “Don’t fucking apologize. Just leave.”

“Marinette.”

“Just leave!”

She closed her eyes and when she opened them again, he was gone. She sighed. She cleaned the blood from the floor and the sink and her arm. She noticed more dripping from between her legs and cleaned that, too. Tikki must have been feeling generous, because the hole in the wall was fixed with a simple lucky charm.

She had a feeling that was the last time she’d see Adrien, as Marinette at least. She’d become something new, and when she saw him again she would recognize him only as her counterpart, creation and destruction, black and white, yin and yang.

As she left the bathroom Tikki said, _Don’t worry, Marinette. You still have me._

Of everything in the world, that was the only thing she knew for certain was true.


End file.
